


What You Deserve

by Dearly_Divided



Category: Far Cry 5
Genre: A little fluffy, Angst, Enemies to Lovers, F/M, Hurt/Comfort, Pining
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-04-01
Updated: 2020-04-01
Packaged: 2021-03-01 04:48:29
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,747
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23429485
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dearly_Divided/pseuds/Dearly_Divided
Summary: His breath caught a moment later when he heard that tell tale click from his radio. “Aw, don’t be mad just because I took another outpost, Jake. I promise I’ll make it up to you,” she cooed, and if Jacob closed his eyes, he could almost see the brazen smirk on her pretty face.He chuckled darkly, “Careful what you promise, honey.”There was a moment of silence that stretched a lifetime, but just as Jacob had resigned himself to the fact that she’d gone to ground once more, she spoke. “You want me so bad, soldier? Come get me.”Jacob never could resist a challenge.
Relationships: Female Deputy | Judge/Jacob Seed
Comments: 17
Kudos: 106





	What You Deserve

Jacob could still remember the first time he laid eyes on Clementine Rivera.

It wasn’t at the church, being led down the aisle by an egotistical asshole chasing his five minutes of fame and the beaten down, ‘too old for this shit’ Sheriff, it was two months before, at one of his cabins.

To say that the people of Hope County weren’t the most trusting folk would be an understatement, not that they didn’t have every right to be. But even when he and his family had been on their best boy scout behaviour, not one single person in that backwater town had ever trusted Jacob. John had his charms, his easy, flattering smile, Joseph had a way with people - he got to work early, slowly weaving himself into the fabric of the community to recruit and sway opinion. Jacob wasn’t nearly so lucky. People took one look at him - ex soldier, hardened and scarred with a shark like grin and a piercing stare, and decided that he was dangerous.

It was human nature to be put on edge when they sensed a threat.

Then again, it wasn’t exactly like he tried to hide what he was. At the end of the day he had a job to do, wouldn’t make a difference one way or the other whether the people there liked him when the time came to weed the weak from the strong.

While his brothers could be forgiven their eccentricities for the time being, their new neighbours didn’t extend that same courtesy to Jacob. Having the cops ‘round to check out the place, put to bed some grisly rumour about what he’d been up to, it wasn’t exactly a new thing.

She was just a rookie back then, only a few weeks on the force. God only knew why they’d saddled her up with Pratt and sent her up to him. An initiation, perhaps? A test? 

Maybe they just wanted to see how he’d handle her, or vice versa. God fucking knew he certainly didn’t have the smoothest relationship with the other Deputies they’d sent his way, present company included.

He remembered being pleasantly surprised as she stepped out of the cruiser, one of Pratt’s hands subtly outstretched to keep her back. Nancy had told them a little of the Sheriff Department’s newest addition, but somehow it’d slipped her mind to mention that the girl - woman really, she couldn’t have been too much younger than John - was far too attractive to be wasting her time in a place like the Hope County Sheriff’s Department.

She had a pretty face, one hell of a body, what with her dark jeans clinging tight to long legs, curves not quite hidden by the olive green shirt she wore. Her skin was tanned, golden under the late summer sun, but it was her eyes that caught his attention. Big, wide, hazel doe eyes, fixed solely on him. 

He didn’t remember exactly why they were there, no doubt checking up on some tip an anonymous, _concerned_ citizen had called in, but he did remember the way that Pratt took the lead, the slight shifting in his position to always put himself between her and Jacob. It was adorable, really. He’d shoved his hands in his jean pockets and sauntered on up to Jacob, drawling something or other about needing to check out the place. 

But Jacob knew that whatever they were after, they wouldn’t find, and he was far, far more interested in the rookie to pay much attention to Peaches. 

“Fresh meat?” he’d asked him with a smirk, slowly eyeing her up and down. 

It would have unsettled most people, hell, it raised Peaches hackles well enough, but the Deputy just returned the smile with a sharp one of her own. “Deputy Rivera, actually. Do you mind?” she’d said, pushing past Staci to stride up the steps of Jacob’s cabin.

The soldier’s grin just widened. “Be my guest, _honey_.”

“I’m not your honey, _sweetheart_ ,” she’s replied as she breezed past him. It didn’t escape his attention, the wide eyed, mildly horrified stare her colleague shot her as he raced up the steps after her. Jacob just chuckled, shaking his head as he’d trailed up on after them. After that, Deputy Pratt seemed determined to keep her out of his sights while they conducted their search - it didn’t matter, didn’t make a lick of difference. They were on his property for just over half an hour, looking for whatever it was they were so desperate to find, and the whole time, Jacob’s attention was fixed firmly on the rookie, Deputy Rivera.

Clem, Nancy had told them.

After they left, Peaches shooting him a final parting glare and looking thoroughly unnerved as they climbed back into the cruiser, Jacob saw neither hide nor hair of the Deputy until the arrest at the church. Peaches, on the other hand, he saw plenty - he was almost positive that it wasn’t a coincidence.

He liked to think that he was a good judge of character. He’d seen enough men with false bravado coming out of their ass run scared shitless at the first sign of blood to know that confidence meant fuck all when it came down to the wire. Peaches and Hudson he had pinned, the rookie - Rivera - was a bit more of a wildcard.

Nancy had told ‘em that she was stubborn and headstrong, but she was smart with a good head on her shoulders. She’d mentioned something about her having lost someone, her father maybe, she was alone, no family left. It would’ve been easy for him to see her exactly as she was; green as they came, wildly out of her depth, brash and cocky, and write her off as an easy target, barely a threat to all that he and his family had built.

But when he saw her that second time, walking down the aisle of his brother’s church, an iron determination glinting in those pretty green eyes of hers, Jacob wasn’t so sure. 

She infuriated John with the way she continually slipped out of his grasp. She tore through Faith’s Bliss fields like it was _nothing,_ and he’d started to lose count of how many outposts she’d taken in the name of her precious Resistance. If she hadn’t been on the other side, Jacob might almost have been impressed. For such a sweet little thing, she certainly could pack a punch.

And yet, even with Peaches firmly under his heel, she made no move towards the mountains. That surprised him. He’d heard the name that Pratt had whimpered out on those first few nights in the cages, he hadn’t missed the glances he’d shared back with the other Rivera months before. Peaches had a crush, but maybe it wasn’t as mutual as he’d hoped. Didn’t matter anyway, he wasn’t going anywhere, Deputy or no Deputy. 

And Jacob was patient, he always had been. He knew that if she wanted to win, if she wanted him, his family and their project gone, she’d have to take him out.

So while John ranted and raved and Faith panicked, Jacob sat back and waited for the rookie to come to him.

When he got that call that the Lumber Mill had been hit, he’d just smiled, pulling out his radio and switching to the open channel.

“And here I’d thought you’d forgotten about little old me, Deputy. Still trying to play the hero then?”

Predictably, there was no response. That was fine, they’d have plenty of time for just the two of them to talk soon enough.

Jacob had his plan laid out so perfectly. The hunting parties and the capture, the conditioning and the trials. He’d even be kind enough to let her run loose and fight with the resistance, with the fuckin’ Whitetails, and he’d bide his time until she was ready. He’d wind her up and send her into the arms of Eli and his band of ‘resistance fighters’ and like a good soldier she’d kill _every last one_ , and then she’d come crawling back to him and let him finish the job.

That was the plan.

It was a _good_ plan.

It would have worked, Jacob was almost certain of it, except for one little, tiny detail.

Clementine Rivera had no intention of being caught.

It seemed the Deputy had learned from her time in the Valley with his brother. She was like a ghost, she’d strike at one of their outposts, their convoys, their beacons, whatever it was she’d laid her sights on and she’d destroy everything without raising a single goddamned alarm. By the time they realised she’d been there at all, she was gone. He didn’t know whether to be more impressed by that, or the fact that she managed to do it with that loudmouthed pyromaniac and his idiotic cousin at her side. 

He’d trusted his best to find her, but they hadn’t. whenever they seemed to get close, the trio would disappear into thin fucking air.

As the old adage went, if you want something done right, might as well do it yourself.

He could have taken his wolves, could have taken a whole hunting pack of them, but he didn’t. He didn’t want to startle the little rabbit, have her disappear on him again. Finding the Deputy wasn’t the issue. There were only so many outposts and beacons he had left, and with his cameras recording every little movement across his mountains, it’d be plenty easy to find her. 

The trick was in trapping her.

But Jacob had the patience of a saint. 

There was a lot to be said about a tactical sacrifice. While his family might not have agreed, in the grand scheme of things losing the F.A.N.G Center wouldn’t cost all that much. A few men, maybe. None he couldn’t replace. The loss of an overweight grizzly bear with diabetes wasn’t going to weigh much on his soul either. 

It wasn’t hard to figure out that she’d hit there next, hell, he was surprised she hadn’t already. 

“How long do you think it takes to liberate an outpost, Peaches?” he asked, his eyes fixed on the monitor in front of him, the image of his wayward Deputy creeping across the screen with her friends. “Long enough for me to go for a drive, y’think?” 

Staci stiffened but said nothing, and Jacob just smirked.

“Yeah, I think I got time.”

But just as he was rising from his seat, something on the grainy monitor caught his eye. Entirely unaware that she was on camera, the Deputy grabbed Boshaw’s arm, pulling him low and out of sight. He watched transfixed as she made a series of rapid gestures with her hands - was she?

Huh. Sign language. Crude and simplified, but ASL all the same. 

The corners of his lips twitched upwards in understanding - suddenly it all made sense. How she was able to take out his men without ever raising an alarm, how she managed to do it with that loudmouthed idiot right at her side. For one fleeting moment, Jacob was impressed.

He found himself settling back down into the old, worn office chair. He still had plenty of time to get there, he was far more interested in seeing the Deputy in action.

It was an odd emotion to name as he watched her pick peggies off one by one. On the one hand he should be furious, but he had to admit, she was good at what she did. And maybe he should thank her, after all, if his chosen were truly the best, they wouldn’t have found their necks snapped by a rookie cop now would they? Later he’d tell Joseph that there was value in studying an enemy’s tactics and that was why he stayed his hand, truthfully he wouldn’t have been able to tear his eyes away even if he wanted to.

If war was an art, then Deputy Rivera was a prodigy.

Oh, he could make her a master.

“Sir?” Peaches’ quiet voice echoed tentatively in the room.

Jacob snapped out of his reverie. His men were dead, the outpost taken, and he’d run out of time. Still, it wasn’t entirely a loss. Staring at the flickering image on the screen, he reached for his radio.

“Y’know Deputy, you keep fighting against this Project, killing _good_ men and women in the name of your precious Resistance. Tell me something, how are you so sure that the side you’re on is the right one? You believe you’re a hero? A warrior?” he tutted into the receiver. “You’re misguided, blinded by your ideals, but it’s alright. We can forgive all that, you just gotta accept where you belong, come home like a good girl.”

He expected his taunts to go unanswered, just like all the others. Not once had the Deputy responded to any of his calls, nor any of his family’s.

So his breath caught a moment later when he heard that tell tale click from his radio. “Aw, don’t be mad just because I took another outpost, Jake. I promise I’ll make it up to you,” she cooed, and if Jacob closed his eyes, he could almost see the brazen smirk on her pretty face.

He chuckled darkly, “Careful what you promise, honey.”

There was a moment of silence that stretched a lifetime, but just as Jacob had resigned himself to the fact that she’d gone to ground once more, she spoke. “You want me so bad, soldier? Come get me.”

Jacob never could resist a challenge.

And so it began, the cat and mouse. 

He sent more men and women to the remaining outposts, he doubled the number of beacons, scattering them across the mountains. More people were being taken, the Whitetail Militia targeted with renewed vigour - anything to keep her focused in his region and keep her from slipping away.

Jacob still trained his men, he still oversaw their trials, but more and more of his time and energy was spent on tracking the Deputy.

He’d retake an outpost and she’d respond by blowing up one of his convoys. He’d try to outwit her, try to figure out where she’d hit next, but if she were following any kind of strategy it was beyond him. She seemingly struck at will, and by the time he got there she was gone.

The Dep got wise to his cameras, somehow she figured out when he could see her. Instead of avoiding them, she decided to flirt with danger - deliberately pulling his attention one way while her friends slipped off to wreak havoc on their own.

It was infuriating, and yet Jacob couldn’t deny that despite it all, he was… enjoying himself. With every outpost taken, every liberated prisoner van the radio calls would follow. At first he spoke to her over the open broadcast, but eventually he found her private frequency. It wasn’t enough to track her location, but knowing that he had a direct line to the Deputy, away from the prying eyes and ears of his family was satisfying to say the least.

He expected the fighting to wear on her, for her will to start to break. It wasn’t a sign of weakness, it was human nature. God fucking knew he’d seen it happen to even the happiest go lucky soldiers in his time, but whenever he spoke with her, the Deputy never seemed any less confident or pleased with herself.

“You understand that you’re only putting off the inevitable, right Deputy? You keep fighting us, but one way or another this has to end, and I think you know where you’re gonna end up when that happens.”

“If I play my cards right, hopefully sitting on my porch sipping a mai tai, but I’m not picky. I’ll see what Mary May can fix me up.”

Sipping a fucking _mai tai_. Jacob shook his head, huffing in exasperation. “You really don’t have a fucking clue, do ya Dep.”

Her laugh was the only response he got, but damn it all if it didn’t bring a small smile to his face. It faded a moment later when it dawned on him what a shame it would be to see that spirit of hers that he enjoyed so much break.

But that was the plan. 

_His_ plan.

Despite their banter, Jacob was still intent on capturing her. He got close too, stumbled across a makeshift campsite as he tracked her across the mountains. The fire pit was still smoking, embers of bright orange and red glowing amongst the ash and charcoal, an empty bottle lying forgotten on the ground next to some scraps of food. It wasn’t the only thing left behind. There, sitting atop a fallen tree trunk was a little black notebook.

He’d crouched to the ground, carefully picking it up and turning it over. It was small, small enough to fit inside one of his pockets, and worn, the corners of the pages curled and folded the wrong way. He had no way of knowing it was hers, but he did. Maybe because he somehow doubted Boshaw or Drubman Jr. seemed like the type to own much less use a notebook, or maybe because it just felt like it was _hers._ Curiosity more than anything else prompted him to open it. He wasn’t sure what he expected - tactical plans? Rough, hand drawn maps? Coded communication between her and the Resistance?

But no, littered across the pages of the notebook were countless sketches; wildflowers and elk, the mountains, her friends and recently taken colleagues, the truck stop down in the Henbane, he even found one of him, standing with one of his Judges on the top of a hill. Carefully his fingers traced the image, a crinkle appearing between his brows, but without a word he stood, slipping the little notebook into the pocket of his jacket to continue the chase.

It was hours later, well after midnight when he was back in his bunker, that his private radio channel sparked to life.

“You took it.” 

For the first time since he’d met her, Rivera sounded tense, distinctly unhappy.

Jacob hummed quietly, eyeing the notebook now sitting atop his desk. “Ah, so the notebook _was_ yours. You’ve got some nice drawings there, Dep. You’re wasted in the Sheriff’s Department,” he teased.

He waited for her reaction, for the witty retort he’d become accustomed to, but he just heard her huff. “Why did you take it? It means nothing to you, it’s… personal.”

He almost laughed at that. _Personal?_ She sounded so offended, like he’d crossed some kind of line, like they weren’t on opposite sides in the middle of a war.

“You’re more than welcome to come and collect it, sweetheart. You know where to find me.”

Her response was as quick as it was cold. “Fuck you, Jacob.”

The line went dead, and Jacob was once again left pondering the growing enigma that was Deputy Clem Rivera.

The days stretched on. He was almost positive that she’d slipped back into his siblings territories a few times - at least if John’s latest reports sighting a growing number of ‘lost silos and damaged property’ were anything to go by, but she always came back to play with him. 

As much as he enjoyed the thrill of the chase, the insults and barbs traded like crossed blades, there was a growing feeling in the pit of his stomach. It wasn’t impatience per se, it wasn’t even anger, it was more like… a want. He wanted her there, with him. 

Not for the plan - fuck the plan.

Jacob just wanted _her_.

But just when he’d begun to think that maybe she’d gone to ground, something strange happened. The Deputy who’d outwitted him at every turn did something very unlike her.

She made a mistake.

It wasn’t her fault, not entirely. Faith and her fucking Bliss definitely shouldered most of the blame. 

It was sheer dumb luck that one of his Chosen caught sight of her when he did, stumbling out of the Henbane, bleeding and drugged out of her mind. Alone. His heart had skipped a beat as the call had come through, his men asking him if he wanted them to bring her in.

His pulse racing, Jacob shook his head, “Stand down. Watch her, but don’t engage.” He was on his feet heading towards the door before he’d even finished speaking, but he paused as a sudden thought occurred to him. “… She in bad shape?”

There was a pause on the other end of the line, “She’s alive.”

Hardly a glowing endorsement. Jacob frowned. “She better still be standing by the time I get there, do I make myself clear?”

This time the reply came quick. “Understood, sir.”

It was a good thing there was nobody left to enforce the speed limit, because Jacob broke every damn one of them driving his Jeep from the bunker to the edge of the Henbane River, up to the old boat shed where his soldiers were waiting.

He’d had weeks to imagine what it would be like when he finally caught her. The taste of victory would be sweet, he’d gloat a little, savour the sight of his Deputy brought to heel at last. And the Dep? She’d glare at him with those pretty eyes of hers, snap some petty retort just to try and get a rise for him. Not even getting captured would be enough to dull that fiery spark he loved so much.

It wouldn’t matter, she’d be where she belonged, on the right side of all of this bullshit.

She’d be with him, all the other shit - his plan and Joseph’s, the Whitetails, the fucking trials, he’d figure it out as they went along.

But this? This wasn’t what he wanted.

This victory felt hollow. _Wrong_.

He’d sent his men away the moment he arrived, and like the good soldiers they were they went without a word. They’d never dare question their Herald, not even where the Deputy was concerned. He could have shot her point blank and they wouldn’t have flinched, wouldn’t have lifted a finger to stop him, Father’s orders or not.

Jacob barely noticed them leaving, all of his attention focused on the Deputy before him. She smiled at him, a wide, dopey grin as she giggled, her arms reaching for him. “You’re herreee,” she sang, her voice lilting and soft, and Jacob felt his stomach twist and a wave of nausea rise up. He wasn’t sure if it was the milky look in her eyes, the green haze hanging over her head, or the still wet, dark patch of blood seeping through her shirt that sent shivers of revulsion running down his spine, but the sight of her filled him with nothing but sickness. 

She was utterly helpless, drugged and injured. The endless weeks of chasing her and ended with God dropping her right in his lap like a fucking _offering_ , ripe for the taking.

He could kill her, take her, do whatever he wanted and she would be powerless to stop him. This was a war, maybe not like the ones he’d fought before, but it was a war nonetheless. There wasn’t good and bad - it was kill or be killed. There wasn’t a place for softness, for _weakness_ in war. What did it matter if she was out of her goddamn mind, high as a fucking kite? If she was injured? She’d spent months raining hell down on him and his family, being a fucking nuisance and a pain in his ass. Joseph had a plan, she was important to him, to the Project. What did it fucking matter how he found her? Was it any worse than what he’d planned to do to her in the first place?

But as she took a stumbling step towards him, Jacob moved on instinct, lurching forward to catch her before she could fall. 

“Hey, it’s alright, Dep. I gotcha,” he murmured, cradling her against his side, his spare hand reaching up to stroke her hair soothingly as she mumbled something unintelligible against his chest. “You’re gonna be fine.”

As carefully as he could manage he guided her back over to his Jeep, easing her into the backseat before jumping in the front. There was a cabin a few miles away, one he’d built himself shortly after moving to Hope County. It was off the beaten track, hard to find unless you knew where it was and few people did. 

She’d be safe there, for a little while at least.

He could hardly keep his eyes on the road as he drove, his gaze constantly drifting back to the rearview mirror to check up on her. She lost consciousness five minutes into the drive, and as Jacob’s hand tightened on the steering wheel and his foot pressed down on the gas he prayed it was just the drugs and not the blood loss.

Hefting the Dep into his arm, he damn near kicked down the door in his hurry to get inside the cabin. 

Jacob laid her out on the bed, prying apart her shirt to study the damage underneath. His eyes flickered across her torso, and he breathed a quick sigh of relief, relaxing his tensed muscles. She’d been shot. Twice. But through some miracle or stroke of dumb fucking luck, neither wound had caused too much damage. The first was a little more than a graze, a glancing blow across her side. The second, the one he’d been worried about, had missed her major organs and arteries, lodging in her shoulder. It bled a lot, it’d slow her down, but so long as Jacob tended to it properly, she’d be fine.

There wasn’t much he could do about the Bliss but wait for her body to purge it from her system. The one single upside, he reasoned as he began to work methodically on her cleaning and stitching her wounds, was that with that much Bliss running through her, she’d hardly feel a thing.

Not until much, much later.

He did what he could with the supplies he had, tying off his crude stitches and bandaging her up as best he could. He’d never been a field medic, but he’d had to look after worse injuries with less before, so he counted himself lucky.

He stayed with her as she slept, pulling up a chair beside the bed, kicking his legs out, lifting his arms to rest behind his head. He knew that he couldn’t be there when she woke up, but as he watched her, the rhythmic rise and fall of her chest, the soft murmurs that escaped her lips as she slept, he found it difficult to pull himself away.

But as the hours ticked by, the sun dipping below the horizon, colour began to creep back into her face, the green haze of Bliss fading, Jacob knew that he was running out of time.

He had to go, as much as he didn’t want to.

Mindful of her injuries he pulled the blankets up over her shoulders, disappearing into the little kitchen and returning a moment later with a glass of water that he set on the bedside table. She’d have one hell of a headache when she woke up.

“I’ll see ya soon, Dep. Can’t imagine a little scratch like that’ll keep someone like you down for long,” he said with a chuckle, shrugging on his old army jacket and turning to leave.

He was almost at the door when he remembered it, the little black notebook he’d hastily shoved into his pocket earlier that day. 

His lips curling into a half smile, he walked back over and set it down on the pillow beside her, where not even she could miss it. He had no use for it any more, and it’d make her happy to have it back.

He risked one final glance at her, committing the soft, unguarded expression on her face as she slept to memory. Unable to help himself, he bent down and brushed his lips against her temple, smoothing down her hair before straightening up.

“You’re trouble, y’know that, dont’cha honey?” he murmured with a fond little smile. 

The only response he got was a soft, low groan, and he took that as his cue to leave, shutting the door softly behind him as he went. 

Trouble was an understatement.


End file.
